unwarranted deaths
by singingofdeath
Summary: from the beginning, he knew it was going to end.


**f**rom the beginning, he knew it was going to end. but the doctor does not like endings, and he was not prepared for hers. the crushing of velvet roses on the white slate of his heart, thorns pricking his fingers and he could not stop the blood. his whole body was alive with the sense of wrong washing of him; the look on her face was enough to make anyone go mad with unwarranted and heedless desire that he never let pour out of him since the loss of his first love. he pleaded with not only his lips, but his heart and soul—the sound of wings hit the air and he felt his life form float for a second—_no, not without amy, no._

**t**ime always seemed to clock backwards for them, a cruel reminder they did not have an infinite life to spend together. amy pond knew from the start she would regret being so close to him and traveling the galaxies like she would do so forever. the end came like a knife in the thigh—it did not hit her where she wished it could. she didn't want to have her life continue without him. she already felt this way before, as a child. life was not worth living when you were telling lies with no one to do it with. her secret for so long had been his true existence, and now she had been with him so long it felt wrong to be anywhere else. the TARDIS was her home. the console room was her favorite room in the entire universe—forget van gogh's home, forget her dream lord home that she despised so much, and while you're at it, forget any other place she ever loved; the TARDIS was the only place she loved as much as she loved the doctor. the wind pulls at her hair, and she blinks slowly. the tears slid down her cheek and she made no move to rid of them. seconds seemed more precious now. this seemed truly like death—everything else after would be a ghost of her. amy nearly laughs when she questions if the doctor's bow tie is straightened, that she should do so before she leaves for good. _not enough time, not enough time. _

**a**ll he could think was of their beginning. and oh, how fitting it was since their end was just at their fingertips. the endless display of affection, the stupidly wide smiles, the _geronimo_! and_how about another adventure, eh pond?_ in the end, he wished her name had been whispered on his lips with more affection, he wished he hadn't pulled away so quickly from her kiss so long ago, oh no, don't think about the forehead kisses or all those times he left her when he shouldn't have. so much more time could have been, but had not been. he would grovel and cry, scream and leave the world behind just for her, if only she didn't leave, if only.

**l**ife was not kind to anyone, but amy pond had seen the worst end of that stick. she was in love with a man of another time, one that left her more times than he stayed. she was laughed at, lied to, told _listen, you're crazy_ more times that she was loved on as a child. everyone disappeared on her—parents, relatives, and then the doctor. psychiatrists told her she needed to be fixed, and she was not sure if there was anything wrong with her. pills, therapy, pills, disappointment, and twelve years. that stupid blue box, the daft bowtied man in a tweed suit and the time of her life—a child, a universe. a kiss from the right man and a thousand kisses from the wrong man. worlds unexplained, one she despised and more that she loved. no, don't think about those. amy's heart was already a ghost, the fingerprints of her doctor clinging on with his kisses on her forehead. they whispered against her skin, and they still do. _i love him, i love him, and i am sorry._

**t**he doctor had met more people than he could ever remember. amy pond was one he would remember forever, and he'd try hard to do so when he lost this version of himself. maybe he would pass her in the street and something in his heart would stir. she'd look at him and her lips would purse, like she was missing something important. she moves on. he does not. he'd chase her across new york city (new york, why does that hurt?) he'd think about his raggedy suit and hope not to cry. everything hurt the closer he reached. he runs and he would see her move faster to meet someone. they're running. running from monsters. he can hear his sonic ringing through the air. everything is rushing. her name reaches his lips—_amelia_! she turns and does not say a word.

he can see her eyes, and they are now dead.


End file.
